When did I become such a rabid consumer? Had I always been one or was there some paradigm shift in my concept of happiness? One sign marking this transition is my migration from action to reticent inaction. There was a time when the balance of my life was such that I would take whatever asset I could accumulate and immediately use it to make art, travel, and simultaneously enter a new life style. This was a precarious time, living on the edge between immediate actualization and desperation.
This was not a world for raising children or deep reflection, this was a time for virile efficiency, a time where things got done because I had clear choices. As I shifted from glorious and pragmatic irresponsibility to that of husband, father, teacher, the mud rose around my ankles. Pleasure was from that which padded my life, that bulge of fat, technological toys, affectations of power, a cosmetic shield of intellectual prowess, the stink of wasted produce on an inappreciative audience. So much tossed into massive waste bins. Mismanaged opportunity due mostly to a lack of focus, a lack of discipline, a lack of eventuality.
We spent the summer tearing away layers of excess and yet still I see it everywhere, A shameful residue of artifacts in every corner, demanding to be dusted or discarded. And beyond this? An important part of my vision is blocked by the heap. My heart coated when it should be let to float up, freed from these long years of accumulation.